Haze Andrea Wolfe (best mobile ebook reader txt) 📖

"I don't disagree with that observation one bit. Prior to my parents stepping in and saying no, I was ready to fork out the cash for a 300-disc changer. Now with an MP3 player, I carry around thousands of CDs with me at a time. Am I crazier now?"

I tapped my chin, thinking aloud and gave him a studious look. "Quite possibly."

After eating, we went back to the hotel and got our things together. It was nice not having to plan to go through airport security. Hell, I could bring entire bottles of shampoo in my carry-on on Jack's plane, and no one cared at all.

I didn't want to leave the comfort of the room, but then again, I was fairly certain we'd be back soon. A lot had happened here in the room—well, mostly sex—and it had definitely been significant to me. Hollywood had been significant too. I had a new friend who was perhaps even more famous than Jack!

The room tidied up, we checked out and hopped into the limo, tossing our bags near the front to keep the driver company. Jack asked for a few minutes to himself to respond to an email on his phone, so I obliged.

In that moment without Jack-related distractions, I started to think about the fact that on the plane ride back, we'd finally talk about work and the deal, coming up with a plan—well, more like a slap in the face, actually—that would cement me back in reality. Dammit, I didn't want to go back and lose this feeling at all. But honestly, no matter how idyllic this had been, I sort of felt like it was only because of the tedious nature of my regular life that made this so desirable, a real escape.

People talked about that all the time, that you needed the bad to fully appreciate the good. Was it because that was a real thing, or maybe because their individual situations were less than ideal and they needed some way to justify them? As Hollywood crawled by, I kept thinking about days with Jack and how spontaneous and fun they were. I wished I had a time machine so I could figure out if time with Jack could ever be boring.

I sincerely doubted it.

I watched Jack tap away on the touch-screen, his mind presumably working faster than his cramped fingers. He looked so innocent and relaxed, a man who had made his own way by standing up for what he believed in, rather than just compromising his values to make a quick buck. Talent was the tool that enabled him to create what he wanted, and he possessed an overabundance of it.

No, I didn't want to be jealous of the world he had. But there was something so appealing about living every day exactly how you wanted to live it. How many people got to say that was the case? Sure, you could be satisfied with what you have, but that doesn't mean that it's exactly what you want.

This was heavy material, for sure, so heavy that I couldn't believe that we were already at LAX by my first break in thinking.

"God, I'm sorry, Effie," Jack said. "I meant for that email to be a short one. It didn't happen."

I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "It's fine. Really. The scenery is mesmerizing to me."

"I forget that sometimes. To me, it's like being in my own backyard. It's nice, but I don't get excited when I look out the window."

"Maybe because the grass is overgrown and you don't want to deal with it?"

"Maybe."

We boarded our private jet and Jack spent a few minutes up front, laughing and joking with Tim. His name alone was enough to bring my mind back to my own former Timothy problems. Shit, he was supposedly still in New York City too, not that I actually knew for sure. He could have been lying, for all I knew.

Life was getting too confusing for me, the answers approaching gray instead of black or white. But gray wasn't totally a bad thing either.

I settled down briefly, buckling myself up for takeoff. Soon after, the plane rose into the sky and I said a silent goodbye to Los Angeles.

***

"Can we talk about it now, Jack?" The flight was roughly half over, but our own meandering conversations had kept us away from serious business.

Jack ran a scratched his forehead and straightened out his posture. "Effie, I'm not going to beat around the bush anymore—I'm not going with MCI. We decided to release it ourselves and go through a bigger company for distribution. I'm starting my own label, finally."

I gulped, feeling words rising in my throat like hot air. Should I even mention what Sam said?

Sounds started to emerge from my mouth, but I stopped them immediately. Jack looked upset about the fact that I had blatantly censored myself.

"Effie, say whatever you want. I'm here for you. You're not going to offend me."

"Well, it's just that Sam, well, Sam said—" I buried my head in my hands, wishing that this wasn't a part of my life.

"What about Sam?" Jack asked. "Did he do something to you?"

"He's been suspicious this whole time. I don't understand why, but he acted like he knew about us from the beginning."

"Well, so what?" Jack said defensively. "You had nothing to do with my decision. He's just paranoid because he's not the wunderkind he used to be."

"He's not acting rationally. He said his wife is divorcing him and he needs money to pay for legal troubles."

"His wife?" Jack asked suddenly.

"Yeah." I nodded.

"I don't think Sam's ever been married. Too focused on his job to settle down."

Fuck. What was going on here? Honestly, I believed Jack more than Sam, but I had no idea how to juggle the information. Was it just a weird coincidence? Had Sam actually said that stuff or had I just imagined it?

No, he definitely said it.

"Well, whatever," I said, not